Do you miss the days?
Back when your father was untouchable,
And the best man you ever knew.
Your mother rightfully dawned her “World’s Best” mug every morning,
The smell of coffee dancing through your living room.

Before you realized your father was insensitive, and stubborn, and rude.
And your mother only wore that pretty little face when she was around anyone but you.
Your brothers had lives that didn’t involve the incessant little sister,
Her stars beginning to fade but still hanging onto their heels,
Inconceivable effort trying to forge what never was.

God planted a blade in your hand and told you to carve what you will,
So you started with fathers, then mothers, then brothers.
But then that dagger is turned towards you,
And begins to etch out your eyes and pick at your brain.
Is this knife sharpened with age?

Bloody tears stream down your cheeks,
A crooked smile sliced into place,
Gashes running the length of your throat.
But your heart still beats,
What a foolish thing.